3. Growing Up

Teachers at school ask a lot of questions about the cuts and grazes that appear on my face, whenever I turn up. But I close my lips tight, just as Mummy tells me to, and I ignore them. But one time when I went to school with a black coloured mark around my eye, I couldn't hide the fact that I was unhappy at home. Later that day, I was looking out of the window at children playing in piles of musty brown leaves, when I saw a woman walk up to my house. She looked quite scary, she was dressed in a brown suit and she was holding a lot of books and paper. As the woman was struggling to balance the papers in one hand, and the books in the other, she wasn't able to knock on the door. All at one, the woman dropped what she had been holding and loudly knocked with the door handle. As Mummy was out buying her usual 8-pack of drink, I couldn't open the door. If I did then I would've disobeyed her and I would be punished. With all my might, I flung open the window and felt the cold air leap onto my face, I let out a gasp. Quickly, the woman tilted her head and smiled at me.

"Hello, my name is Mrs Belle. Could your Mummy let me in so we could have a chat?" The lady called to me, her mouth forced into a scary smile.

"No, sorry, but you can't come in...I'm busy." I said, scared that she would know that I was lying.

"Doing what my love? If it's Home Work, I'm sure I can help you." The lady said, her smile was getting bigger, she started to look like a fierce, mean, shark, about to open it's mouth and swallow me whole.

"No it's not Home Work, I'm playing with my little brother... John, we're playing pretend." I lied, I've always wanted a brother or sister, they would play with you even if you had bugs in your hair and the boys at school call you ugly. But if Mummy doesn't like me, then she wouldn't want another child...I don't think she would anyway.

"Can't you just open the door? Look, it's really cold out here and I'm sure your Mother wouldn't like me to call the police, so we force ourselves in" The woman said, she was starting to get angry, and I wasn't quite sure what to do. In the corner of my eye, I saw my Mum at the top of the road, slowly walking down, she was puffing on a stick and she loosely held a full shopping bag in her other hand. I quickly close the window so Mummy wouldn't see me speaking to the weird woman outside our house. Putting on my gloves, I crawled into my bed and pulled the blanket over my nose, listening for the sounds that Mummy had arrived home.

A jingle of keys followed by shouting echoed through the house. I didn't want to hear what they were talking about, so I covered my ears tightly. I also did this when Mummy swore at me or shouted at me, as my ears are very sensitive. After a sentence or two of cursing and shouting, the front door banged to a close.

The stairs shuddered under the weight of my Mummy and I could smell the foul cheap drink that Mummy seemed to drink all the time. As Mum stumbled into my bedroom, she looked very tired and she even looked a little sick. But a soon as she realised I was hiding underneath the blanket, she suddenly became angry. Ripping the blanket off me, she grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the floor. "Did you tell lies? Did you tell lies about your Mummy to the people at school?" Mummy shouted,she looked furious, as if she was about to hit me, I flinched. "Aren't you gunna tell me?" I stared into her eyes, I tired to swallow the lump rising in my throat that was stopping me from talking. Suddenly, Mummy's foot crushed down onto my ankle I screamed in pain and then quickly covered my mouth.

I hate my name. Why did Mummy give this name? I don't know. maybe it's because she wanted me to get picked on by the other kids at school. It's not even a name, it's a word. Useless, it's an insult, a bad word. Someone that is good for nothing. Someone that can't help anyone. Someone who doesn't have any talents and is a waste of space. Is that what I am? Is that why Mummy beats me every night when her breath smells funny and why she shouts at me for no reason? Does my Mummy even love me?